


30 days

by I_AlwaysHearPunchMeInTheFace



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Azkaban, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, Draco Malfoy in Azkaban, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Famous Harry, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Lucius Malfoy in Azkaban, M/M, Oblivious Draco Malfoy, POV Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-09 22:02:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18925873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_AlwaysHearPunchMeInTheFace/pseuds/I_AlwaysHearPunchMeInTheFace
Summary: Draco Malfoy was shocked when he was only sentenced to 30 days in Azkaban for his crimes against The Wizarding World. He was even more shocked when none other than Harry Potter, the savior of The Wizarding World, showed up to visit him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic so please be nice. I'm just here for a good time and because I love my boys! I hope to update this every two weeks. If I dont manage I apologize. I think that's it so enjoy!

Day 1

The door slides shut on Draco Malfoy’s cell. As the metal clangs he tries to be grateful. Draco has only been sentenced to 30 day in Azkaban’s solitary confinement ward, much to the dismay of The Wizarding World at large. But when the savior of said Wizarding World speaks on your behalf they aren’t going to tell him no. 

Draco shakes the thought of Potter from his mind and takes a look at his temporary home. One bed so that means no roommate, Good. A toilet in the corner with no privacy, Lovely. Thread bear quilt on a tattered mattress, bearable. It may not be Malfoy Manor, where he has spent the 6 month since The Battle of Hogwarts under house arrest, but he can do this. Quite frankly anything is better than living with Voldemort, and Draco had done that for months.

Draco takes a deep breath in through his nose, which in hind sight is a bad idea. The cell is musty and yet somehow drafty. He is contemplating this ventilation conundrum when he hears the rattling breath making its way down the corridor. 

A cold shiver runs down Draco’s spine as his breath forms a cloud in the suddenly frigid air. The rattling breath grows louder and panic rises in Draco’s throat. The sound of whimpers follow in its wake. Draco does his best to hold still. Although he knows it will do him no good. For all the talk from Kingsley Shacklebolt about getting rid of the dementors in Azkaban, here they are.

The cold intensifies as the rattling breath drifts in front of Draco’s cell. Suddenly his mind is full of torture. Flashes of red pointed at him or worse directed by him. Bile rises in his throat, but he swallows it down refusing to run to the toilet to vomit. He doesn’t turn around but he feels the dementor linger. The despair and shame crash over him in waves. All of this he expected but the insisting pull underneath makes him shudder. He’s fresh meat, and the dementor knows it. Draco focuses on his breathing as the rattling finally continues down the corridor.

It’s a good thing the cell is so small. Draco barley has the strength to take the two steps necessary to reach the bed before collapsing. He pulls his long limbs onto the too short mattress, and curls into the tightest ball he can. He knows he should pull the blanket near his feet up over him to battle the bitter cold but he lacks the strength. 

Is this how Potter felt when he fainted on the train? 

Draco blinks that thought away. He will not think of Potter here. A vivid image of Potter standing at Draco’s trial flies unbidden into Draco's mind. His jaw set in anger, fire in those piercing green eyes, finger pointed at Umbridge, who somehow still has a seat on the Wizengamot. 

“You did more to help Voldemort than Draco Malfoy ever did!" 

“Stop!” Draco says into the empty cell. He steadies his breathing and tries to think about nothing.  
_________

Draco is still lying there when his cell opens some time later. Standing in the doorway is a brown haired witch who stands no higher than Draco’s chest in here high heeled shoes. Draco holds still as she smiles at him. 

“Hello I'm Ivy Baron, and I’m with the visitation department,” She explains with a kind smile.

Draco just blinks at her. Why was she here? The only people who would visit him are either already here or under house arrest. 

“You have a visitor,” her smile growing somehow wider. It’s a warm smile. “Please stand with your feet shoulder width apart and your hands straight out in front of you." 

Draco stands. There must be a mistake, his family can’t visit him and it’s not like he has friends at this point. The few who had stood by him after the battle turned their backs on him as soon as Potter walked into his trial. He was a monster to some and a traitor to the rest.

“Alright I’m going to need you to follow beside me as I take you to the visitation center,” she says having finished with the shackles. 

“Are you sure there hasn’t been a mistake?”

“Are you Draco Malfoy?” her eyebrow quirks. 

“Yes,” Draco notices her smile take on a mischievous quality.

“Then there has been no mistake. Please come with me," she leads him through the labyrinthine corridors before they arrive at the visitation center. It looks like a normal lobby but the cold despair still lingers in the air. No one is sitting in the utilitarian arm chairs which Draco finds peculiar.

“Shouldn’t my visitor be here?” Draco gestures vaguely at the Lobby. Ivy Chuckles.

“Normally yes but he’s still filling out the necessary paper work,” She takes Draco into a room containing 2 chairs with a table in between them and a handful of posters on the walls. Ivy directs him to the chair farthest from the door. It is almost comfortable. He doesn’t see the shackles but he knows they’re there. He sits down waiting for the restricting metal to shoot out of the chair and lash him down. Nothing happens. Ivy baron smirks at him. 

“Mr. Malfoy you’re on the lowest level of security we have here. Shackles will only restrain you if you break one of the rules" she gestures towards one of the posters on the wall stating the rules. No touching, no smuggling of contraband items, no escape attempts. Draco chuckles at its straightforward nature. 

“Who is my visitor?” he asks. Ivy’s smile grows wider. 

“He’ll be in to see you shortly" Ivy closes the door behind her  
.  
Draco’s head spins still unsure who this could possibly be. Draco busies himself looking at the list of contraband items on one of the posters on the wall. He is pondering exactly why a pygmy puff had to be put on the list when wisps of silver start coming through the door Ivy just left through. Before Draco can comprehend what’s happening a stag patronus trots in. Draco’s breath catches in his throat, there’s no way this can be true. Draco is overwhelmed with a swirl of emotions; confusion, panic, anger, relief? He pushes them all down as Potter strides in. 

For a moment they both stare at each other. Potter obviously fumbling for words. Draco is just as dumb struck. Potter is his visitor, why? 

“Potter,” Draco says trying to take control of the situation although the name holds significantly less contempt then it used to. Potter visibly relaxes, which is odd, but so is the fact that he’s here. 

“Malfoy," Potter gives him a nod as he takes his seat. The silence stretches awkwardly between them. There is so much Draco should say, wants to say, but he can’t even tell which way is up. His head is spinning with so many questions.

“Why are you here?” Draco asks without his express permission.

“I’m here to visit,” Potter says gesturing vaguely at the room. Draco barks out a laugh, which seems to startle Potter, but he can hardly help it.

“I’m sorry what?”

“I’m here to visit. Hence the visitor’s badge,” Potter points to the flashing visitor’s badge for emphasis. Draco’s mind is drawn to other flashing badges but he pulls it away. Now is hardly the time for nostalgia.

“Potter in all the time I’ve known you we've scowled, glared, jeered, taunted, bullied, assaulted, and almost killed each other,” A shiver runs down Draco’s spine and he sees Potter’s eyes dart to his hands. “Never once have we visited. So if you’re here to gloat or worse pity me you can feel free to leave." Draco says making sure his face is the cold mask his mother taught him.

“Really you think I’m here to gloat?” Draco sees the anger building in Potter’s face as he finally looks back at Draco. This is a side of Potter he knows well. “That was always more your style.” Potter growls. A familiar shiver runs down Draco’s spine, not fear, he has never been afraid of Potter. Pushing his buttons has always brought this sort of thrill. 

“Despite what everyone thinks I don’t pity you either. That’s not why I’m here and that’s not why I spoke at your trial.” Potter explains vehemently.

“Then why are you here?” Draco’s cool voice is in direct contrast with Potter's rising anger.

“Because I’m pissed that you’re in here in the first place. You had no more choice in this than I did, and throwing you in here just to save face is wrong.” Draco was taken aback. No more choice than Potter? How could he possibly equate what Draco had done to Potter saving The Wizarding World? 

“That doesn’t really answer my question Potter. Why on earth are you here to visit me in Azkaban? We aren’t friends and we never have been. I understand you feeling honor bound to speak at my trial for my mother’s sake, but what possible reason could you have for being here now?” Potter's eyes follow the stag that is lazily circling the room. 

“The only time prisoners are not subject to dementors is during visiting times. Each visitor is allowed up to an hour a day.” Potter says to his fingers. Draco scoffs.

“What exactly does that have to do with you?” Draco scrutinizes Potter arching his brow. None of this makes sense but damn it he was going to figure it out.

“As you may recall from 3rd year, I don’t particularly care for Dementors."

“I hardly think that’s relevant since you don’t have to be here,” Draco explains slowly. Potter glares at him.

“Well since I don’t think you deserve to be here in the first place I find it particularly heinous that you have to be subjected to them for 30 days straight. So I’m going to give you at least an hour a day without them,” Potter explains.

“So what you’re going to be here for one hour a day everyday for my 30 day sentence?” 

“Exactly,” Potter smirks leaning back in his chair smugly. Draco flounders unable to comprehend what has just happened. Somehow despite all this talking he still wonders why. Potter goes on, “We don’t have to be friendly, we don’t even have to talk if you don’t want to but I can give you one hour a day dementor free. It’s the least I can do." 

“I think we are far past the least you can do,” Draco says shooting Potter a suspicious look.

“Regardless, I’m doing it and there’s nothing you can do to stop me,” Potter’s chin sets in an obstinate line. Draco takes a moment to really look at him. Potter looks tired. He’s looks healthier than he had at the battle but still somehow scrawnier than he had been in school. Well maybe scrawny wasn't the right word anymore. Draco’s eyes trace the lean muscles of Potter’s arms. Muscles earned fighting for not just his life but all of their lives. Draco pulls his eyes back to Potter’s which are piercing him with a stubborn gaze. 

“Ah I see, Savior complex.” 

“What?” 

“You’re ever present savior complex. Saint Potter must save everyone always. Even after you save The Wizarding World you can’t rest. you have to save the bad guys too. It must be exhausting to be you.” Draco tries to keep his voice even but something like anger bubbles in him. Not at Potter but for him.

“I do not have a savior complex,” Draco just stares until Potter squirms under his gaze. “What?" 

“I’m trying to figure out if you are trying or convince me or yourself” 

“I’m not trying to convince anyone,” Potter crosses his arms across his chest looking livid. Draco snorts. 

“Sure you’re not. Honestly I don’t know which would be worse. You trying to convince me a convicted death eater as if my opinion matters or that you're still somehow in denial about your savior complex."

“I don’t have a savior complex!” he says throwing his arms up in exasperation.

“Yeah the denial is worse." 

Potter opens his mouth to respond before snapping it shut. Draco sees his tongue poke into his cheek as if he’s wrestling back the words.

“We will have to agree to disagree,” Potter says as evenly as he can considering how agitated he obviously is. Draco’s eyebrows shoot up. 

“Potter I’m starting to think you’re possessed,” Potter’s responding chuckle confuses Draco even further. Two things he knows about Potter are that he doesn’t back down and he doesn’t find Draco funny. Draco briefly entertains that this is just a very strange dream. 

“Not anymore,” Potter says mostly to himself. Draco doesn’t know what to make of that. He doesn’t know what to make of any of this. The conversation lags as Draco watches the stag wandering the room. It seems to be near Draco most of the time. Only returning to Potter after passing behind Draco several times. Draco appreciates the peace radiating from the massive creature. He hadn’t realized how much the dementors had already affected him. He tries not to think of the state he will be in when he leaves. 

“Still afraid of dementors?” slips out before Draco can stop it. He really needs to get a handle on himself and this situation but it’s all so ridiculous he doesn’t even know where to start. Potter’s chuckle draws Draco’s attention. His face isn’t light but he looks amused like Draco had just asked if he was afraid of fluffy rabbits. 

“No I’m not, don’t get me wrong they’re awful. I just don’t have it in me anymore.” Potter says before pulling out a copy of The Quibbler. Draco lets the conversation die. Obviously he isn't getting anywhere questioning Potter about his intentions. All of his answers ring true but the underlying “why?” has Draco on edge. Draco tries to steady his breathing and clear his mind. Maybe that will help.

\------- 

They sit in a charged silence for what feels like days. Draco tries and fails to meditate. Instead his mind spins as he tries not to stare at Potter. Every time he does look at him it seems Potter is looking away.

“Do you want to read this?” Potter’s question snaps Draco out of his musings. 

“Why would I want to read The Quibbler?” Draco sneers, even though he’s been trying to figure out what exactly the creature on the front page is.

“You don’t seem to have anything better to do. And I saw you trying to read the bit about the nargles" he says extending the paper to Draco, after a beat he takes it. 

“What are you going to do?” 

“I guess it’s my turn to stare off into space,” Potter says, but he doesn’t. Draco feels his eyes on him the whole time. He barely dares to move. 

\------------

Draco is reading a ridiculous and unfathomably entertaining article about crumple horned snorkacks when Ivy steps in. 

“Mr. Malfoy, it’s time for me to show you back to your cell,” Draco’s stomach plummets. He suddenly realizes how ok he feels. Sure his life is still in shambles but for the first time since arriving here he doesn’t feel a bone deep despair. He shakes his head at his own weakness. 

“Of course,” he says standing. He extends the paper to Potter, “Thank you for letting me borrow this.” 

“Keep it. I’m finished with it and you really should finish that article about the crumpled horn snorkacks.” Potter looks to Ivy who is still standing patiently just inside the doorway. “Is that alright?” 

“Of course Mr. Potter.” Ivy says. Harry turns a gives Draco a triumphant grin. Draco says nothing. He simply tucks the paper under his arm before extending them to be shackled. Draco sees the smile slide right off Potter’s face as the chains encircle his wrists and ankles. It is replaced with a simmering rage that confuses Draco. What could Potter possibly be mad about?

“I’ll be back to show you out momentarily Mr. Potter,” Ivy says as she leads Draco into the corridor. The cold air hits him like a ton of bricks. He does his best to suppress the shivers that wrack his body. Potter steps out of the room behind them. Draco holds his head high as he shuffles down the corridor. He will not let Potter see him frightened. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Potter calls down the hall, his voice sounds inexplicably desperate. Draco turns his head to check again if this is the same Potter he’s known for years. It doesn’t seem like it. Their eyes meet, those green eyes are blazing with some emotion Draco can’t pin down. Then Potter lifts his wand to direct the stag towards Draco. It follows him all the way to his cell. For several minutes after he arrives it lingers. Not touching him but staying very close to him, like its guarding him. Draco basks in the warm glow knowing it won’t last. When it finally dissipates he knows Potter is gone, and he feels colder than he ever has.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for you patience guys, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Day 2

 

The sky outside Draco’s window is a cloudless blue. The waves crash against the stone walls far below him. He tries to sync his breathing with it’s ebb and flow, anything to distract himself. While the world outside seems peaceful and serene the world inside sounds like war. 

Despite being in solitary confinement the sounds from the mess hall drift up toward him. Usually its quiet except for shouted conversations and the occasional scuffle between inmates. Today is different, today it’s the sounds of breaking bodies and screams. The inmates are tearing each other apart. 

Draco wonders if the building was designed to funnel noise this way or if it's just a happy accident. He covers his ears and rocks with the sounds of the waves. He wishes he knew what was happening. His father is down there somewhere and Draco has no idea if he’s ok. His breath catches at the thought of his fathers body laying in a pile. He prays his father is no where near it, but there is no way to tell. 

Lucius’s sentence had been less lenient than his own. Much to Draco’s surprise Potter had spoken at his father’s trial as well. He didn’t have the glowing recommendation he’d had for Narcissa. Potter is honest after all.

“I’m not saying he’s a good guy, I’m just saying he changed his mind. I think you should take that into account.”

5 years is what the Wizengamot decided. His mother had been over joyed but his father had looked wary. Lucius knew that his sentence alone would make him enemies. Not counting the ones he’d made all on his own. 

Draco hears an ear piercing scream rip through the air. It echoes off the stone walls as the cacophony falls silent. Draco hopes that it isn’t his father. A shortened sentence means nothing if you die inside. 

He looks out the tiny window. The sky is still blue, as if it has no idea what happens in these walls.  
_______  
The prison is eerily quiet after the riot. The already bone deep cold has intensified. Draco wonders if they’ve sent more dementors or if they are just working harder. He pulls his Azkaban issued jumper tighter around himself. It does nothing to stop the constant shivers.

He hopes Potter comes soon. He hates that he hopes that. Draco desperately wants not to care. It’s been one day and already he feels dependent, on Potter of all people, and he hates it. The imbalance of power makes his skin crawl. It goes against everything in him to be in Potter's debt and yet here he is waiting impatiently for the clack of heels to retrieve him. 

Draco stands suddenly needing to escape this loop his mind has been on. But there’s nowhere to go, so he paces. 

“Potter probably won’t even come,” He murmurs, to himself or the walls he’s not sure. He knows it’s not true. Potter may not be the same as he once was but he’s still a stubborn git. Potter will be here everyday and Draco knows it.

Draco feels an unwelcome sense of peace at this realization. It’s almost like he wants to see Potter. Like he enjoys his company, not just the stag's. Which is ridiculous. They hate each other. They always have and they always will. 

Something pulls at Draco’s mind. A niggling feeling that maybe he isn't being honest with himself. He pushes it down, and for the 6th time today he reminds himself. He isn’t here to think about Potter. He’s here to be punished for the unspeakable things he did. 

“Maybe thinking of Potter is my punishment?” Draco flops on his bed. 

He perks up at the clack of high heels headed down the corridor. It takes every ounce of dignity he has to sit politely on his bed rather than run to the bars.

“Good afternoon Mr. Malfoy. Please stand with your feet shoulder width apart and your arms out,” Draco assumes the position before she has the sentence out. He takes a deep breath to steady himself. Ivy just smiles at him while she does up his shackles. “Follow me.”

Draco tries to keep track of where they are going but soon he’s too turned around to tell you what direction they came from. He tries to ignore the way his blood is zinging through his veins. He should not be excited right now. He is in Azkaban for Merlin's sake. 

As guilt washes over him he remembers his father. 

“Ms. Baron,” 

“Please call me Ivy,” she gives him a sweet smile to emphasize the point.

“Ivy, I’m not sure if you are allowed to answer this but, is my father alright?” Ivy gives him an inscrutable look. 

“Lucius Malfoy was not involved in the riot today.”

Draco let’s out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

“Thank you.” 

They continue in silence for the rest of the trip. Draco tries to keep track of the turns again. Not having his bearings is driving him crazy. 

They turn and Draco can see the nondescript lobby. Potter is sitting in a chair looking on edge. His knee is bouncing in a way he isn’t sure Potter is aware of. His eyes follow the stag’s movements before bouncing to the corridor where Draco and Ivy are walking. 

Draco sees Potter's countenance shift. His leg stops bouncing, he takes a breath so deep Draco can see it from here.

Before Draco can think too hard about how weird that is the stag is upon him. The lumbering patronus canters over to Draco crowding him and Ivy in the doorway of the lobby. 

Draco takes a shaky breath as all his muscles simultaneously unclench. An inviting warmth penetrates to the core of Draco’s body and rushes to his extremities. He almost moans at being able to feel his toes again. 

“Sorry," Potter says commanding the stag away. Draco misses it immediately. Potter looks at the ground as he runs his hands up his neck to his disheveled hair. I’d Draco isn’t mistaken he looks a little pink in the cheeks.

“No problem Mr. Potter, I’ll retrieve you shortly.” Ivy escorts Draco into the room, unshackling him, and showing him to his seat.

Draco is nervous. He can’t explain why, but as the stag proceeds Potter’s entrance Draco’s heart beat picks up. He knows it’s not fear, Potter isn’t going to hurt him. Why is he so jumpy than? Draco shoves this line of thinking away because Potter is already talking. 

“So I might have gone a little over board.” 

“I’m sorry what?” Draco says. Potter chuckles. 

“I said, I was getting lunch but I wasn’t sure what you’d like so I might have gone a little over board,” Draco blinks at Potter. If he doesn't understand why Potter is here in the first place he really doesn’t understand why Potter is feeding him. 

“You brought me lunch?” 

“Well yeah, I was getting lunch for myself and I wasn’t going to leave you out,” Potter explains. “So I hope you like Chinese food.” 

Potter unloads an obscene amount of takeaway containers explaining what’s in each and emphasizing Draco can help himself to any of them. After the table is nearly covered in food containers, and the plates and cutlery are in place Potter pulls out 2 containers Draco recognizes 

“Is that Fortescue’s?” Draco knows the answer and his mouth is watering. Potter beams 

“It is and he remembered that your favorite flavor is pistachio,” Potter hands Draco the frozen delicacy. Draco scrambles for it in a horribly undignified way. He opens the lid and inhales deeply. 

“Sweet Merlin,” Draco says mostly to himself. Potter chuckles quietly and Draco remembers his audience. He straightens up and recovers the ice cream in its temperature controlled container. 

“Been a while since you’ve had ice cream?” 

“Yes,” Draco says reigning himself back in. Potter is not his friend. He needs to keep it together. 

“When he reopened I ate probably 4 pints a day. Ron and Hermione had to have an intervention.”

“An intervention over ice cream?”

“Yeah Hermione called it an unhealthy coping mechanism,” Potter explains running his hand up the back of his neck into his messy hair. Draco laughs he can’t help it. 

“Ice cream is your unhealthy coping mechanism? Do you good guys have any fun?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never tried,” Potters eye get dark as if his thoughts took him someplace stormy. He shakes his head minutely and it seems to pass. What was that about? “Anyway eat,” Potter says pointing at the colossal amount of food. 

Draco knows he should refuse but it smells so good, and he hasn't eaten properly since long before he got to Azkaban. He dives in setting aside the ice cream for last. 

“So why exactly did you bring enough food to feed an army?” 

“I didn’t know what you would like. I didn’t want you to leave hungry,” Potter says staring very intently at his orange chicken. Draco quirks an eyebrow, that’s an interesting thing to be sheepish about. He stores that away. 

“I’m not the one leaving,” Draco says taking the jab rather than delve deeper. It’s not his place. Potter goes ashen. 

“Shit I’m sorry,” Draco is taken aback. Did Potter just apologize? Maybe this is a dream. 

“Potter I'm just giving you shit calm down,” Draco explains between mouthfuls of lo mein.

“Oh,” Potter visibly relaxes, he even gives Draco a little smile. Draco’s stomach flutters. He assumes it is the proper food.

“Just because I’m captive doesn’t mean you're safe Potter. I’m still smarter than you,” Potter grins like he used to in school. Draco doesn’t know why that makes him feel proud.

“If you say so Malfoy, and since you’re so smart I brought you more reading options.” Potter pulls out The Quibbler, The Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly, Seeker Weekly, and 2 others Draco doesn't recognize. “Again I wasn’t sure what you’d like so,” he gestures vaguely, “an assortment.” 

Draco narrows his eyes as Potter opens his copy of The Quibbler and digs in to his food. 

“Why do you read The Quibbler? Its nonsense,” Draco says eyeing his reading material options. 

“Yeah but at least its happy nonsense as opposed to The Prophet which is depressing and infuriating nonsense.”

Draco picks up The Prophet, He knows Potter is right. The Prophet is more about profit than news and it has been for a while. Even if the headlines are sensationalized Draco still needs to know what’s going on. 

“Eat while you read” Potter says nodding at the food Draco had set down.

“You sound like my mother. Are you going to read me a bed time story next?" Draco says dutifully picking up his food again. 

“Sorry I just,” Potter pauses as if he's trying to figure out the best way to say something tricky. “I don’t like people going hungry and no offense but you look like an Auschwitz escapee.”

“A what?” 

“Auschwitz, the concentration camp,” Draco looks confused “Hitler? World War 2? Is any of this ringing a bell?” 

“No.”

“How do you not know about World War 2? The Nazi’s killed millions of people, you never learned about this,” Potter's eyes are wide with shock. 

“No, or World War 1 for that matter. If there was one. I don’t know how muggles count,” Draco says feeling defensive.  
Potter blinks for a moment and then throws his head back in a roar of laughter. 

“What is so funny?” 

“Its funny that you think muggles are so different from wizards.”

“Well yes, they must be they don’t have magic,” Draco crosses his arms across his chest. Potter shakes his head still chuckling.

“No but they have a lot of things that you don’t." 

“Yeah but nothing is better than magic.”

“How do you know?” 

Draco sputters before returning to his food without comment. Potter smirks and goes back to his Quibbler.  
\------  
Draco understands why Potter doesn’t read The Prophet when he gets to the society pages. The headline reads “Harry Potter, savior of The Wizarding World has gone muggle!” the picture accompanying the article is of Potter walking down the street in the same muggle clothes he's always worn. Quite Frankly Draco is shocked the grey blue t-shirt with a navy blue collar is still in one piece. The article is small and full of what Potter so eloquently dubbed infuriating nonsense. 

“Potter spotted outside of The Leaky Cauldron in full muggle attire. He slipped into a crowd of muggles before this reporter could ask why the famous wizard has been frequenting muggle London.

It seems to me that The Boy Who Lived is slipping further into madness. Potter has been practically invisible since he conquered He Who Must Not Be Named at The Battle of Hogwarts. Holing himself up in his home for weeks at a time.

In the last few months Potter has only been spotted a handful of times. Most notably to speak at the Malfoy trials. Despite his long running feud with the youngest Malfoy he spoke at all 3 trials in favor of leniency for the known Death Eaters. Is dark magic at play or has Potter finally snapped?” 

Of course The Prophet would think the Malfoy’s had bewitched him. He can’t say that he blames them. Draco himself had asked his mother if she had. For which he received a stern look, and the assurance that Potter was acting of his own accord.

But other than that maybe The Prophet has a point. Draco looks at Potter. He doesn't seem crazy but that would explain why he’s here. He's lost his mind. 

It’s convenient but Draco doesn't believe it. From what he knows of crazy people, which is a fair amount considering his family, Potter doesn’t seem crazy. In fact he seems less volatile than Draco can ever remember him. 

“Are they still tracking my decent into madness?” Potter says making Draco jump. He hadn’t realized Potter was watching him. 

“Yes, they say you’re going muggle now,” he turns the paper so Potter can see the photo. He rolls his eyes. 

“I knew I should have worn the cloak.”

“Is that why they think you’ve been holing yourself up for weeks at a time?” Potter averts his eyes watching the stag as it lazily paces around Draco. 

“Mostly,” he answers finally. 

“Mostly?” 

“Yeah mostly,” Draco stares like his mother does when people won’t answer her questions. It works like a charm as Potter squirms under the weight of his gaze. “Ok there might have been a few months when I didn’t leave the house, but between the paparazzi, adoring fans, and the crippling grief, it was easier to pretend the world didn’t exist.” 

“Is this when the ice cream intervention occurred?” Draco asks trying to lighten the mood. He desperately wants Potter to smile again.

“That’s when a lot occurred, but despite what The Prophet says I’m perfectly sane,” Potter considers that statement. “Ok well mostly sane.” 

“There’s that mostly again,” Draco says. This time it Potter’s turn to level him with a gaze. It reminds him eerily of Dumbledore. He feels like Potter is looking him in the soul not the eyes. Draco’s cheeks are suddenly on fire, why does Potter have to look at him like that?

“I think it’s safe to say we’re all a little fucked up at this point,” Potter says.

Draco freezes, the words Potter isn’t saying are incredibly loud. We lived through a war and have been deposited on the other side and expected to move forward as if it didn't change everything. Draco feels the shame start to bubble up. Potter had fought for the right side. Draco had not. He deserves to feel that shame. He deserves the visions of death brought on by the dementors. He deserves worse than that. 

“So not afraid of dementors anymore?” Draco says desperate to think of anything else. Potter looks startled but he leaves it. Thank Merlin.

“No, I hate what they do and the fact that human beings are still being subjected to them, but I’m not afraid anymore,” Potter explains. 

“Why not?”

“The same reason I’m not afraid of the dark anymore. You assess the fear for the threat that it is. You figure out how to beat it. You move on. I had a lot of other things to be afraid of.” Potter says as he eats his ice cream. Draco takes his cue and does the same. Its unfathomable to Draco how he casually skirts the topic of the war. As if having that conversation wouldn't make this an entirely different experience. 

“Who taught you how to do that,” Draco gestures to the stag currently standing to his left. 

“Remus Lupin,” Potters eyes get a little misty but he looks down at his ice cream. 

Draco kicks himself Internally. Of course it was Remus Lupin! He learned how to produce a patronus in the third year. But yes Draco by all means bring up the dead.

“He was my favorite of all the Defense Against the Dark Art teachers.” Draco says trying to clean up his mess somehow. Potter looks curious. 

“I would have thought it was Snape."

“No, Snape’s style of teaching was too much like listening to my father talk about the dark arts. At that point I’d had enough of that," Draco explains mostly too his ice cream.

“Which was your least favorite?” Potter asks sounding a little uncomfortable.

“Umbridge, hands down,” Draco says without hesitation. 

“What? You were on the inquisitorial squad!” 

“Doesn’t mean I liked her. Some of us just know how to keep our heads down,” Draco says in a haughty tone.

“Yeah kissing ass has never been my strong suit,” Potter smirks.

“Well no, you’re a Gryffindor. Self preservation of any type is not your strong suit,” Draco taunts but it doesn’t hold the heat it used to. He doesn’t want to hurt Potter. He prefers to make him laugh, not that he'd ever admit it.

“And you’re a Slytherin, which explains everything,” Potter says with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Draco’s anger flares.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he fires back.

“That you were cunning enough to stay on Umbridge good side and ambitious enough to get in The Inquisitorial Squad.”

“Oh,” Draco deflates. 

“Malfoy, I’m not here to insult you. That might have been fun in school but honestly I’m so tired of fighting,” Potter sighs. Draco can see the exhaustion. He doubts Potter has gotten decent sleep in weeks. He should leave it. He should keep the topic light. But the question still drives him mad. 

“Why are you here than?” 

“I already told you,” Potter’s vibrant eyes pierce him in place. There’s something there that Draco should be able to glean but it alludes him. This just doesn't make sense.

“No you’ve given me your reasoning. I’m sure it’s exactly what you told Granger and Weasley when they told you this was crazy. That doesn’t tell me why you care that I, Draco Malfoy the person you hate most on this planet, am here suffering. What's the motivation? What’s the goal? What are your intentions visiting me, bringing me food, and being nice to me? For Merlin’s sake can we please stop pretending this is normal?” Draco is shouting by the end.

“That’s a lot of questions,” Potter says calmly.

“Only one is important though. And despite my asking you still won’t tell me why. Are you ever going to?" 

“Maybe, I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.” 

There’s a faint knock before Ivy enters and Draco’s stomach falls to the floor. Potter jumps a little. 

“Mr. Malfoy, Its time to go.”

Draco takes a fortifying breath. This hour seemed to go faster than the last. The stag is on its feet again. It stands a hair’s breadth away from Draco. He takes solace in its peace while he can.

“Could err, we have just another minute," Potter jumps in before Ivy shackles Draco. 

“Of course," Ivy says stepping out, like the rules mean nothing. 

“You can do whatever you want can’t you?” 

“I did save the world and what not. I try not to take advantage, too often."

“That’s why you’re a good guy.”

Potter runs his hands through his shaggy black hair and looks down at his shoes. 

“I got you some books. I hope that’s ok. I didn’t know what you would want.” 

“Seems to be a theme,” Draco says trying to seem unaffected by the impending return to his cell. Potter isn’t fooled, in fact his hands twitch toward Draco as if to comfort him. He shoves them into his bag instead.

“Yeah turns out despite knowing you since I was 11 I don’t actually know that much about you.”

“Shocking,” 

“So I just picked up an assortment,” Harry pulls out 4 books wrapped in twine. “if there’s anything specific you want me to bring just let me know.”

Draco is overwhelmed by Potter's kindness. He doesn’t know why and he may never, but it seems genuine. 

“Thank you, I really appreciate this.” Draco says through the lump in his throat. 

“Was that as hard for you to say as it seemed,” Potter says with a smirk. Draco’s stomach flutters, he tries to ignore it.

“It was harder actually, but good breeding hides a multitude of sins,” Draco quips. Potter laughs and it sounds like music. Draco tries to quiet the butterflies in his stomach. Get it together, this is Potter for Merlin's sake. There’s a knock and Draco watches Ivy walk in knowing it’s really time now. 

“Hey, Malfoy,” Draco looks over to Potter again. He drops his voice to a low rumble, “I don’t hate you.” 

Draco is taken aback. He has no idea how to respond to that. Potter doesn’t hate him. How is that even possible? Ivy collects his books and magazines. He isn’t allowed to take the food but Draco knows he won’t want to eat once he’s back in his cell. 

Ivy shackles him and directs him back into the lobby. The stag is almost close enough to touch. He wonders what it would feel like to touch it. He knows he shouldn't. Its Potter’s patronus. He probably wouldn't appreciate Draco harassing it. But Draco is finding he doesn’t know much about Potter anymore, maybe he never has.

He can feel Potter’s eyes on him as they head down the corridor. He turns to look at him one more time.

“Hey Potter, I like mysteries." His responding smile is inexplicably Brilliant. Potter has never smiled at him like that. Draco finds himself wishing that wasn’t the case.

“I’ll remember that,” the sound resonates through the stag as they turn the corner. The ethereal light brushes against him briefly making his whole body tingle.

The stag follows Draco back to his cell. It positions itself between him and the bars. It practically sits on him as if it knows it has to go but it wants to shield Draco for as long as possible. 

When it stands he knows it has to go. Draco takes a fortifying breath, preparing for the onslaught of despair. The stag turns to face him. It slowly, as if not to startle Draco, lowers it head until its forehead rest against his. 

Euphoria is the only word he has to describe it. His mind is wiped clean of every horrible thought that has been dogging him for the past 2 days. He is warm in a way he’s never experienced. It’s not a temperature it’s a feeling. It’s his mothers hug on the platform at the end of term. It’s his father firm squeeze of approval in his shoulder. Its Potters brilliant smile.

Draco starts at the sudden absence. He hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes but when he opens them again the stag is gone.

Draco sits on the edge of his bed considering what just happened. He's never heard of a patronus touching someone, not that he knows anyone who can produce one. The difference between being near a patronus and touching one is staggering. Even in the stags absence he doesn’t feel the despair as aggressively. Draco wonders if every patronus feels like that or if they’re all unique. He wonders if Potter felt anything when that happened. If so what? He really hopes not. Just the thought of Potter confronting him about this makes him want to curl into a ball and die. 

He busies himself deciding which of the books to read first. Potter has actually done a good job. The first book is about famous seekers throughout history. The second is the first in a series about dragon riders. The third is a book about Veela magic. The fourth is the latest mystery from his favorite author. Draco smiles in spite of himself. Potter had done well. Maybe he knew Draco better than he thought.  
Draco is shuffling through the books again when a slip of parchment flutters to the floor. He picks it up. It’s a list, he assumes it Potter’s. In atrocious handwriting it says.

Draco likes  
1\. Quidditch  
2\. Books  
3\. Tormenting me  
4\. Apples?... aesthetic choice? 

Draco dislikes  
1\. Me 

Draco’s laugh bubbles out of him like he’s been hit with a cheering charm. This is absurd. In what world does Harry Potter make a list of his likes and dislikes? Who eats apples as an aesthetic choice?

Draco is still laughing when he hears it. The rattling breath of the dementor. Only this time its louder. Draco understands when he looks up. 3 dementors hover at the bars of his cell. There gapping maws hungrily sucking. Draco slides to the floor scooting until his back hits the stone wall, doing anything he can to make himself smaller. He listens to the waves as despair engulfs him. Draco clutches the note to his chest, holding on for dear life.


	3. Chapter 3

Day 3 

It takes a couple hours after the dementors leave for Draco to peel himself off the dingy floor. He might have passed out, he isn’t sure. Draco ignores the slop that arrived while he lay there. He knows he should eat but he just can’t muster the strength.  
He lays on his bed feeling weak and shaky. Potter's note is crumpled in his hand. Draco smooths it out as best he can. He picks up the mystery and dives in. He uses the note as a bookmark. 

It’s still his bookmark as he reads the book on Veela magic. It's a wonder how much you can read when you can’t sleep and you’re a prisoner. 

Reading isn't all Draco's been doing though. He can’t stop thinking about Potter. He has set why exactly Potter is doing this aside to ponder the many other questions that have come up in the last few days. Draco has cultivated a mental list of them. 

Why is he so weird about food? 

How does he know Draco likes books? 

What did he mean when he said he wasn’t possessed anymore?

He tries to distract himself with the same paragraph about Veela hair wands when he finally gives up.   
He knows he shouldn't be thinking about Potter this much but obviously he can’t stop himself. If Draco’s being honest with himself it makes him feel better when he thinks about Potter. There's just a little less despair. 

Potter doesn’t hate him. Draco believes that, but why doesn't Potter hate him? Draco has given him every reason to hate him since the day they met. He spent most of his school years looking for ways to torment him. So much so that Potter put it on the “Draco Likes” list. Than he became a death eater, and everything got worse. Potter shouldn't be able to look at him let alone like him.

Does Potter like him? He said he didn’t hate Draco but that doesn't exactly mean he likes him. Maybe he just had better people to hate, like he had better things to fear. That must be it. But if he doesn't hate him, and he couldn't possibly like him, how does he feel about Draco?

He lets out a sigh. Navigating Potter feels like navigating Azkaban. He can’t get his bearings. Everything he thought he knew about potter has been blown out of the water.   
Well maybe not everything, Potter is still stubborn. He's honest if not necessarily forthcoming. He still can’t dress in clothes that fit him.

The clack of Ivy's heels pull Draco from his musings. Ivy grins when she opens the cell to see Draco standing ready. 

“Hello Mr. Malfoy, I see my usual line is unnecessary,” Ivy does up his shackles. Draco is about to step out as they usually do when she slips a folded piece of parchment into Draco's jumper pocket. “You did not get that from me,” she says before stepping Out of the cell knowing Draco will follow her.  
Draco's head spins with curiosity. Who is the note from? When can he read it? What does it say? He wants to ask Ivy but based on her instructions he knows he can't. He decides to open the note when he gets back from Potter’s visit. Until then he has other questions. 

“Are everyone’s visits like this?” Ivy scoffs.

“No, generally visits are done in more of a group fashion. But you don’t put Harry Potter in a crowded room. Love him or hate him, they’ll tear him apart.”

He never thought of it that way. Draco is self aware enough to know that he's been jealous of Potter since they were children. What had seemed like the beat life when he was a child seems pretty terrible now. 

“Between the paparazzi, the adoring fans and the crippling grief. It was easier to pretend the world didn’t exist.” 

Draco feels a surge of anger. hadn’t he given them enough? He defeated Voldemort and saved all of there lives. Why couldn't they just leave him alone?

Draco wonders when he started feeling protective of Potter. Did that happen in the last 2 days? A small part of Draco says no but he ignores it. 

As soon as they turn the corner toward the lobby the stag is waiting. It doesn't startle Ivy this time but it makes Draco jump.

He tries to resist touching it. He doesn't want to over step anymore than he already has. Furthermore if Potter is not aware of what happened Draco isn’t going to make him. 

Unlike last time the stag doesn't crowd Ivy and Draco, rather it walks with them. Leaning close to Draco making him feel safe and warm. 

It doesn't leave Draco's side as Ivy escorts him to his seat. Potter follows after Ivy steps out, a blush creeping up his neck.

“He's rather taken a liking to you" Potter says already unpacking food. 

“I didn't realize Patronus had genders,” Draco says trying to dodge the subject. 

“… Malfoy, he’s a stag. I think it’s safe to say he's a boy,” Potter explains slowly. Draco sees him biting his cheek as if to stifle his laughter. 

“They could be trans, have you ever asked?” Draco says trying to save himself from this blunder. It’s a bloody stag Draco get it together! Potter blinks as if he's never thought of this. He turns to the patronus. 

“Is it ok if I call you he?” Potter asks. To Draco's astonishment the stag nods. “ha I was right!” Potter says handing Draco his Fortescue’s.

“You're going to make me fat," Draco says eagerly diving into his ice cream.

“Better fat than an Auschwitz escapee. Speaking of I have more books.” 

“How were we on that subject?” 

“Because I got you a book about World War 2, more specifically the Holocaust, ” 

Draco takes the book intrigued, it wouldn't hurt to learn some muggle history. 

“I know you probably don’t need any more books but I was given a task and I am very goal oriented,” Potter says with a crooked grin.

“I always need more books,” Draco says absentmindedly flipping through the book. From what he can see, he is glad that the photos don’t move.

“You are the only person I know who reads as much as Hermione,” Potter says in a knowing way as if he’s had this information filed away for a while. Why would he know that?

“I really don’t have anything better to do. My Choices are sitting around thinking about every mistake I’ve ever made, or reading a book and pretending I don’t exist. It’s a nice reprieve,” Draco leaves out just how much he thinks about Potter.

“Silver linings I guess, have you finished any of them yet?” 

“I’ve finished 3 of them" 

“Wow that’s a lot of reading, have you slept at all since yesterday?” Potter’s emerald eyes pierce Draco in place, the concern is clear in his voice. Draco looks away.

“A bit,” Draco says. This time it’s the stags turn to level him with a gaze. “Merlin what are you my mother?” he says to the stag. The stag nods, Draco huffs. When he turns away from the ethereal beast Potter is looking at him with concern. Draco can’t remember Potter ever looking at him like that before. 

“Is it nightmares?” Potter asks quietly. 

“When I can get to sleep yes, but it’s hard to get that far when you’re shivering and miserable. Its really alright, if I don’t sleep for long enough I just sort of pass out. I'm fine really.” Potter nods in an understanding way.

“Well I don’t have anything for that today but I’ll see what I can do. In the mean time what did you think of the books? Any to avoid in the future? Any to seek out?” Potter says steering the conversation to safer waters. Draco has a feeling Potter knows a thing or two about sleepless nights. 

“As much as it pains me to say this, you did quite well. Mcaninch is my favorite author and you managed that without help. Honestly I’m curious to see what else you come up with.” 

“Well then start eating your real food and I will show you,”   
Draco doesn't have to tell him twice. He brought Indian takeaway and it smells so good. He gestures for Potter to continue with a mouthful of food. Potter chuckles, shaking his head as he reaches into his bag.

“Alright you’ve got the one about the holocaust, trigger warning Hitler makes Voldemort look like a pygmy puff, The Diary of Anne Frank which is a classic, then I got 3 mysteries from assorted magical authors and 1 from a muggle author,” he hands over each book in turn and Draco looks at each planning where he will start. 

“I know it’s a lot of muggle stuff,” Potter continues sounding nervous. This confuses Draco enough for him to look up. Potter is running his hand up his neck into his hair before realizing his hair is now a mess and attempting to flatten it. “But you got me thinking about how much wizards don’t know about muggles and I don’t know I thought it might distract you.”

“Oh it will,” Draco watches Potter relax at his words. Is Potter nervous about what Draco thinks? Since when has that mattered? 

“I also got you a journal. Unfortunately you can’t use a quill but pencils are allowed and weirdly enough so are ball point pens.” Potter hands over a moss green leather bound journal. Draco traces his fingers over the tiny vines running across the cover. Its beautiful. 

“I’m sorry what?” Draco says bringing himself back to the conversation. 

“Where did I lose you?”

“Ball point whatever.” Draco says with a dismissive wave.   
Harry pulls a small cylindrical tube out of his bag. 

“Basically it’s like a quill only less annoying,”   
Draco takes the muggle contraption carefully. He holds it gingerly as if it might bite. 

“How am I supposed to hold it?" 

“Like a quill,” Potter says obviously trying not to laugh.  
Draco adjust his fingers. It seems to fit well enough. He puts it on the paper. Nothing happens. 

“You’ve got to click it,” 

“I have to what?” 

Harry reaches over to Draco and clicks the button on the pen. His hand brushes Draco’s. A zing of electricity races up Draco's arm and down his spine. 

“No touching the inmate, this is your only warning,” came a stern female voice reverberating through the walls. They jump apart, startled. Draco’s hand still tingling slightly. 

“Go on try it,” Potter says when they’ve caught their breath. Draco tentatively writes with it.

“This is amazing!” Draco says writing anything he can think of before devolving into swirling patterns. 

“I’m glad you like it.” 

“You would never spill ink!”

“Yeah that’s why they made them I suppose. They’re extremely convenient,” Potter says smiling gently at Draco as he marvels.  
“Are all muggle things this useful?” Draco asks. Potter considers this for a moment. 

“Not all of them, but a lot of them yeah.” 

“Why don’t wizards have these? They’re fantastic!" 

“Wizards don’t think muggles have anything to offer, so muggles progressed with out them. That or aesthetic won over function, it’s hard to say.” 

“Knowing wizards probably both, speaking of who eats apples as an aesthetic choice?” Potter goes white and then almost as red as Weasley. 

“I left that note in one of the books didn’t I?” 

“You did,” 

“That’s embarrassing,” Potter runs his fingers through his disheveled fringe. “Was I at least right?” 

“Yes except I don’t dislike you, and I don’t eat apples as an aesthetic choice,” 

“Oh come on not even a little bit" 

“Its food Potter,” 

“Yeah but you only eat green apples which not only go with the Slytherin aesthetic but they also complement your skin tone,” Potter explains.

“And you know all of this because?” 

Harry splutters looking for a reason he should know that and seemingly coming up empty. Draco enjoys that, he has always enjoyed watching Potter squirm.

“Breath Potter I’ve known about your stalking tendencies for some time. I just didn’t think it extended to my food choices.” Potter blushes as Draco leans closer. “and between you and me, though I will deny it, I like how red they make my lips look.”   
Potters eyes dart to Draco's mouth before quickly darting away. 

“I knew it,” He says looking anywhere but at Draco. “Wait did you say you don’t dislike me?” 

“Yes, nice of you to notice,” Draco is shocked at how easy its becoming to banter with Potter.

“Since when?”

“I too am capable of personal growth.”

“That doesn't answer my question.” 

Draco opens his mouth to answer and then closes it again. When did he stop disliking Potter? He reaches back into his mind fishing for the last time he had really hated Potter. He is shocked by how far he gets without finding anything. Potter is still waiting on an answer as he shovels food in his face. He eats like a heathen. Which reminds Draco of something that’s been plaguing him. 

“Why are you so weird about food?” 

“Weird subject change, but ok. What do you mean weird about food?” 

“Well you have no eye for human meal portions.” 

“I still don’t know what you like to eat, except apples of course,"

“Also, you eat like an absolute savage and you always have,” Draco continues. 

“Do I offend your pure blood sensibilities?” Potter asks with a smirk.

“Yes, and finally you seem rather obsessed with what I’m eating, and when you’re questioned you get uncomfortable,”

“So you bring it up again?” Potter points out with no hear behind it. 

“Yes, it’s been bothering me I want to know why?”

“Its been bothering you? I knew Azkaban was bad but I had no idea it was so terrible you have time to read 3 books AND obsess over my feelings about food,” Potter’s eyes light up like they always do when he thinks he's won. 

“You’re perfectly free and still find time to contemplate how apples compliment me aesthetically,” Draco purrs. Potter’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. His eyes dart to Draco's lips again. A tingle runs down Draco's spine. He's not entirely comfortable with how much he likes this. 

“Fair point,” Potter says shaking himself out of whatever that was. 

“So,” Draco says still expecting and answer. Potter takes a steadying breath. 

“When I lived with The Dursleys, my legal guardians after my parents died, they would… um… not let me eat as a punishment, and when they did let me eat it was not a lot. So now I guess I’m weird about food as you put it." He tries to laugh it off but Draco can tell it was hard for him to say that. He is filled immediately with guilt. Why couldn't he leave it alone?

“I’m sorry. That it happened and that I brought it up.” 

“Don’t be, The Dursleys hated me and did some really awful things. But now I am out of that house and it’s all behind me. It’s no big deal.” Potter says dismissively. Draco's head is reeling. Who would do that to a child? He remembers how skinny Potter has always been and he is overwhelmed with hatred for these people he has never met. 

“Potter it is a big deal.”

“You sound like my therapist,” Potter says avoiding Draco’s gaze.

“You have a therapist?” 

“Yeah, when Ron and Hermione had the ice cream intervention Hermione set me up with a muggle therapist.” Potter explains. 

“Is that safe? Can you even tell them anything?” 

“It’s safer than a wizard therapist, and Hermione did some sort of charm to bind her from exposing The Wizarding World.”

“That's fair, not a wizard in the world would keep your secrets. And if Hermione charmed her I shudder to think what would happen if she tries to snitch.” They both shudder.

“that’s why I’m muggle so often. I really like her, she has a great way of calling me on my bullshit.”

“I’ve never even met her and I like her,” Potter snorts at that. 

“You would, speaking of I owe you an apology.” 

“Saint Potter has an apology for me, the world must be coming to an end,” Draco says throwing his hand to his forehead dramatically.

“Shut up, I wanted to apologize because you were right.” Potter says chuckling. 

“You know now I'm positive the world is coming to an end." 

“It turns out I do have a savior complex,” Potter says. 

“Well I'm glad you figured it out. I mean you’re the last to do so but I’m proud'

“Well thank you for that" Potter laughs out. They lapse into a comfortable silence as they eat. Draco takes a peek at his books. He flips through the one about The holocaust. He understands why Potter was concerned that Draco didn’t know about this. Photos of piles of bodies and smoke stacks make Draco’s stomach turn. A grainy photo of emaciated people standing in a line wearing rags like house elves. The photo is tagged the liberation of Auschwitz.

“Wait is this what you think I look like?” Draco asks aghast. 

“You must admit there is a resemblance,” Potter says focusing on is curry.

Draco balks. Ok sure Draco hasn’t had much on an appetite since the battle. Being under house arrest will do that, and it’s not like his life had been terribly stable before that. Voldemort lived in his house for Merlin's sake.

“I’m naturally thin,” Draco defends. 

“Yes Malfoy I know what you look like. We have known each other for some time. You’ve always been lithe, you’re a seeker. I’m not trying to body shame you really I just...” Potter trails off. 

“You're weird about food,” Draco says taking a bite. Potter relaxes. 

“exactly,”

“Well if you keep feeding me I’ll be back up to my lithe seeker body in no time,” Draco says a little more seductively than he intended. Potter's responding blush makes his stomach flip. Draco looks back at his food.

“I look forward to it,” Potter says looking proud of himself.   
They both read and eat. The silence is easy, as if they've been doing this for years.   
\--------   
Draco puts the book down with a sigh, placing a napkin in to hold his place. 

“You ok?” Potter asks over his book. 

“Yeah, I understand what you meant about Hitler, I thought I knew evil.” Draco says. 

“You did, Hitler was just better at being evil.”

“How do you talk about him so freely?” Draco asks.

“Practice mostly, Voldemort was a huge part of my life. Defeating him was the focus of my childhood. I have to be able to talk about him or I'll go mad.”

“Did your therapist tell you that?” 

“Hermione told me first, but the therapist corroborated,” he explains. 

“She is always a step ahead isn’t she?”

“Three steps actually, “ Potter looks sheepish. “Have you ever talked about it?” 

“About what?” 

“Voldemort, the war, any of it" Draco’s hand twitches to his mark. Potter catches it, but says nothing. 

“Its not really the pure blood way," Draco explains trying to sound casual, but his hands are shaking. 

“That explains a lot. If you ever do want to. I’m here for you,” Potter says his green eyes gleaming. “And I wont tell the other pure bloods I promise.”

Draco bite his cheek to keep from tearing up. 

“You don’t have to, you know that right. You don’t owe me anything." 

“I know.”

“Do you? Because in really starting to doubt that. You spent your entire childhood saving The Wizarding World and now that you have you’re still trying to save everyone. You deserve a break.”

“You sound like my therapist,” 

“Well than I must be right,” 

“You are. Malfoy I’m not here out of some feeling of obligation.” Draco narrows his eyes, “You can give me that look all you want, but its true. This may shock you but I am actually enjoying myself,” Potter says.

“How?”

“Because you're the only person who treats me like I’m normal,” the honesty radiating from Potter makes Draco’s heart squeeze.

“Me? What about Granger and Weasley?” 

“They treat me like I’m fragile, and everyone else treats me like a hero. I don’t know which ones worse. But you treat me like I’m still me, and you have no idea how helpful that is right now.” Potter says unable to meet Draco's eyes. 

“I have to call bullshit. I may still treat you like you’re the same pain in the ass you’ve always been but I am not helpful,” Draco says. Potter looks at Draco again and he’s happier than he's comfortable admitting. 

“You can deny it all you want Malfoy but really talking to you is nice.” 

“if you would have just shook my hand when we were 11 we could have been friends the whole time.” Draco says inspecting his cuticles. 

“You had just insulted my only friend!” 

“I was trying to impress you!” Draco exclaims. Harry guffaws.

“That’s a weird way of doing that. How exactly was I supposed to know that under all those daddy issues you were delightful and hilarious?”

Draco can feel the blush spread up his neck and across his cheek. Potters tongue darts across his lower lip. 

“Touché, I was a bit of a tosser,”

“A bit?” Potter clocks his head to the side making his hair fall across his forehead. Draco stops himself from pushing it back.

“Don’t push it, I can only do so much personal growth in one day.” 

“Admitting you are a tosser is the first step to recovery.” Potter says in a soothing tone. 

And without any warning they’re both laughing a deep joyful easy laugh. As if they were friends. As if this was natural. And Draco’s chest aches just a little. 

There's a knock one the door. Ivy steps in. 

“Mr. Malfoy,” she says nodding. The dread isn’t as consuming as he gathers his things. He knows he'll see Potter tomorrow and that brings him comfort. 

“Well Potter, it's been fun,” Draco says standing so he can be shackled. Potter has to draw his eyes away. 

“Anything particular you want for lunch?” 

“Cashew chicken,” Draco says. 

“I can do that, any particular books?” 

“More muggle books,” Draco says before he registers the desire. Potter’s face lights up. “Something less depressing next time.”  
“I think I can manage that,” Potter says chuckling.   
“We really do have to go,” Ivy says gently. 

Draco takes a deep breath, he can do this. The stag gently brushes the top of his head. The waves of peace and warmth washes over him. When he opens his eyes Potter is blinking at the harsh light. His mouth open in a little oh. 

“That’s what that was,” he whispers so low Draco doesn’t think he was supposed to hear it. 

“Mr. Potter I’ll be back to see you out shortly,” Ivy leads him away the stag following dutifully. Draco's head is spinning, Potter felt that too. The image of Potters mouth is burned into his mind. 

\---------   
It isn’t until hours later when he’s half way through the muggle mystery, which is absolutely fascinating, that he remembers the note in his pocket. He fishes it out. 

Dear Draco,   
I see you have made some important friends. I hear you were concerned for my safety after yesterdays riot. I assure you any concern is unnecessary. You see somehow my paper work was miss filed. Rather than being put in the general population I was placed in the geriatric wing.   
I of course informed them that there was a mistake, but they said its out of their hands. So fret not son, there is little trouble here.

With love,  
Lucius Malfoy 

Draco clutches his father's letter to his chest as relief over takes him. His father is in the geriatric wing. He knows better than to think that could be an accident. Potter did that.   
Draco finds that that doesn't make him nearly as uncomfortable as it should. What a wonder a few days could do. He lays back down picking up his book and making note of questions he has for Potter tomorrow.


End file.
